Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
T wo weeks after I nearly killed my father, I ride with Talan toward a banquet, dressed in a gown of sheer golden silk. Today, astride horses in the frost-kissed countryside, marks one of the first times I’ve seen him since I returned from Avalon Tower.
As our horses take us closer to Lord Aedan’s castle, I grip the reins tightly, the cold biting through my silken gloves despite the sun. It doesn’t help that I’m basically naked beneath my cloak. This morning, Jasper dressed me in a gown so delicate that it might as well be made of fog.
By my side, Talan rides his black stallion, Maponos, a creature as forbidding and powerful as its master. With his dark hair and midnight-blue suit, Talan’s broad form devours the light. Despite the frosty bite in the air, he doesn’t seem to feel the chill.
Steam evaporates with Clover’s every breath as her hooves crunch in the snow.
“What do I need to know about Lord Aedan?” I ask.
Talan glances at me, and the wind toys with his dark hair. “His lands are among the richest in Brocéliande, and his soldiers supply about a fourth of the entire Fey army.”
“I remember him.” Back at Castle Perillos, he seemed severe, silent.
“He prides himself on his unpredictability. I let him believe it, which is how I stay ahead of him.” His lips quirk in a half smile. “He poisoned three of his mistresses, two of his wives, and a neighboring lord, along with his entire family.”
“That’s a lot of poison.”
“The man loves his poisons.”
My gaze follows a low-flying hawk as it arcs through the air. “And what are his parties like?”
Talan’s fingers absently brush Maponos’s mane. “He throws a large, ostentatious banquet about once a year. I usually find an excuse to avoid it.”
“Because you don’t want to get poisoned?”
“No, frankly, poison would be a mercy once he starts droning on about his alleged hunting conquests. I can appreciate his penchant for murder, and his dreams are delightfully depraved, but his conversational skills are literal torture. Though the rumors are that he’s started to burn a magical aphrodisiac at his parties just to liven things up. He dreams of having parties like those in the old days of Avalon, when the gods of pleasure reigned.”
“Sounds like something you would like.”
“Except that I happen to loathe Aedan,” Talan adds, his voice lowering.
“Come on, then. I’m royalty now, and I demand that you give me all the gossip.”
He looks at me again with the faintest gleam of vulnerability in his eyes, but just as swiftly, the look is gone. “Did I ever mention the years I spent in the dungeons?”
Surprise flickers in my chest. “No, you’ve failed to mention it.”
“Twice, actually. But the first time, Aedan was involved. I was quite young then, only twenty-six, and I’d wandered into one of his dreams. One of his sex dreams, to be specific. He favors women, but this one was about the king. My father was dressed as a milkmaid. He was with a bull and a cow in a compromising position, and the whole dream made me wish I had the magical ability to erase my own memory.”
My jaw drops. “I’ll never see your father the same way again.”
“I was young and hadn’t learned the value of discretion yet. Aedan quickly learned that I had visited his dream. The addition of the animals, and what they were doing with my father, meant the dream bordered on treason, and Aedan wanted to shut me up for good. He accused me of hiring a death-weaver to kill the king from afar. Aedan even planted the evidence. Letters he forged. He found a woman to confess, a poor peasant he tortured into submission. That sealed my fate, and that’s how I ended up in the dungeon. The first time, anyway.”
“And your father simply believed the fake evidence?” I ask.
“It didn’t take much to convince him. He always preferred my brother. Lothyr’s mother loved my father, though Father grew tired of her. My mother never fell for him. She loved me, not him. And when he realized it, that knowledge was like a poison in his veins.”
I don’t know how anyone could love Auberon. “What about the next time you were in prison?”
“Someone accused me of fucking the king’s favored mistress.”
“Another fake accusation?”
“Oh, that one was absolutely true—many times over. Father wasn’t doing it properly.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “Of course.”
“So, I was thrown back in the dungeon and forgotten again. But Lothyr died in the civil uprising, and they had no choice but to release me. When I emerged from prison that time, idiot that I was, I’d imagined joy, that freedom would seem like heaven after so long starving in a five-foot cell. I’d spent years imagining sunlight on my skin, the oaky smell of the forest in my lungs, the soft moss beneath my feet, and the delighted moans of women. But when I stepped out of the dungeons…” He seems to catch himself, and his expression closes off. His easy smile slides back into place. “Anyway, here I am. The last prince standing.”
“What happened after the civil war?” Everyone in Brocéliande blamed him for the horrors after the war. But Talan had once told me that his father lost his mind after Lothyr died and used his dragons on the “traitors.”
He looks off into the distance. “Do you know, it was a long time ago.”
“Were you close to your brother?”
“Yes. I think Lothyr is the only reason I was released from the dungeons the first time. If it weren’t for Lothyr, I would have lost my mind.” A dark smile. “Assuming I already haven’t.”
“Were you kept in the same prisons as everyone else?” I ask. “Or did you have the royal version of a prison?”
“A small, dark cell.” His voice grows quiet, edged with steel. “The same cell where they’d kept my mother before me. I always believed I’d share her fate because her death was the most vivid thing to me. My clearest memory. The dragon fire. The devouring flames, singeing, burning…I thought that was my destiny. Strange that I made it this far when I always thought I’d die young.”
Barbs scrape at my ribs, and I feel my chest crack. “So, why are we going to see a man you hate?”
He glances my way, a smile ghosting over his lips. “This time, I accepted the invitation as an excuse to get you close to him.”
I’d already guessed as much. “I assumed you’d want some measure of control over him. You couldn’t get to him through his dreams?”
“No. Since I intruded on his milkmaid dream, his mind has become a fortress. I can still catch a glimpse of his dreams, but I can’t shape them or see them clearly. This requires your more…aggressive approach.”
“What’s the plan?”
“There’s been talk about a special faction within Aedan’s bannermen,” Talan says. “A secretive group of soldiers loyal only to him, trained to subvert the chain of command.”
“You’re talking about a military coup of Auberon’s army,” I say in surprise. My fingers tighten on the reins. If this is true, I need to get this information to Avalon Tower immediately.
“Just rumors, perhaps.” Talan’s expression shutters. “But there must be some kernel of truth in it. And I want Aedan to tell me.”
“So, this is like Ker-Ys all over again. I get him to confess to you privately?”
“Exactly. At a certain point in the banquet, we will find our way to his room. That will be your opportunity.”
“And what do I get out of it?” I ask.
“Are we bargaining now?”
“Well, I am a princess. And I remember you once saying something like, ‘I do whatever the fuck I want, love, and when I die someday, I will have no regrets. It’s the privilege of being me.’” I lower my voice into his deep tone.
His lips curve into a wicked smirk that makes my heart skip. “If you’re going to do an impression of me, at least make it accurate. You forgot the part where I’m alluring enough to make your pulse race.”
“So, what do I get for the privilege of being me?”
“What would you like, Princess?”
“I want the power to pardon someone from execution. You said that when you were pulled from the dungeons, it was into hell. But we’ve all heard the rumors—that you went on a murder spree, slaughtering everyone the moment you were free. How do I know you won’t do the same again?”
His eyes narrow. “Oh, I very well might. But don’t worry, Princess. I’m selectively sadistic. If I decide to throw a torture party, it will be only for the most exclusive guests.”
“Are you telling me no ?” I sigh. “I’m afraid my powers might not be working as well today.”
His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I don’t do mercy. But for you, Nia? Maybe I’ll consider it. If you ask very nicely, in just the right way.”
His deep voice goes right down to my core, and I pull my gaze from him.
“Fine.” The palace is up ahead now—a castle of gleaming white spires against the brilliant blue sky. It’s almost blinding. There are no walls around this palace, just an oak-lined path leading up to the front entrance.
“Anything else I should know in this place?” I ask.
“I will have a reputation to maintain while we’re there. I can’t raise suspicions by acting unusual.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
A half smile that reminds me—much to my dismay—that this man’s mouth is absolute perfection. “The atmosphere in there—it won’t be the country way that you’re used to, nor the palace’s formality and royal restraint. Beyond the castle walls?” His eyes glitter with a sinful allure. “They know what I truly am—a man who lives without limits. Do you understand? An arm around your shoulder, a chaste kiss—it won’t be enough for a voracious libertine prince with his new bride.”
I lick my lips, trying to ignore how much the deep timbre of his voice sends heat racing over my skin.